Flickers of Light
by Robin4
Summary: True Love is always worth fighting for, and theirs is the truest of all. Rumbelle one or two shots, set in various universes, many written for the 2015 Rumbelle Showdown. Ch 3: Rumple takes Belle on a trip away from the Dark Castle. Ch 4: Belle is not captured by Regina after freeing Philip. She heads back to the Dark Castle…but runs into an obstacle along the way.
1. Just Another Fairytale

**Just Another Fairytale**

* * *

Summary:_ When their sick daughter can't watch her favorite movie, she gets a Rumbelle story instead. Set in the _Freeze on the Stones _universe, but you need not have read that to understand this story._

_My Round 2 Submission from the 2015 Rumbelle Showdown, written as "Purple Crocodile". Prompts were: __Behind the locked door, Once upon a time, Netflix._

* * *

"I want to watch _Beauty and the Beast_," their daughter announced firmly, and then sneezed. At five, she was old enough to know exactly what she wanted, and although Gabrielle knew that her parents' story in the movie wasn't terribly accurate, she still loved it. And frequently demanded that her father enchant "Chip" so that he could play with her instead of just sit on the shelf.

"Netflix isn't working," Belle said several minutes later, as their daughter sniffled miserably on the couch.

"Let me try," Rumplestiltskin replied, reaching for the remote, which Belle handed over with a sigh. His wife dealt better with people than she did with electronics, but as the oft-times antisocial Dark One, Rumplestiltskin was just the opposite. However, fiddling with the remote and even turning off the DVD player and turning it back on again did nothing. Netflix still just hung up on that infuriating red screen while Rumplestiltskin resisted the urge to try to curse the application into submission.

"You said I could pick 'cause I'm sick!" their daughter complained. Big brown eyes, suddenly red-rimmed and miserable, turned on her parents, who exchanged a look.

"You broke the DVD, honey," Belle pointed out reasonably. But sick children were not rational, even if they were normally well-behaved ones. Gabrielle pouted.

"Not _my _fault. Papa stepped on it."

Rumplestiltskin snorted but didn't argue. He _had _stepped on—and broken—the DVD in question. Right after the little minx had left it on the stairs.

"Do you want to watch something else?" Belle asked, gesturing at their large movie collection.

A five-year-old frown. "No."

_Time for drastic measures, then_, the Dark One thought. "How about I tell you a story instead, sweetie?" he spoke up, putting the remote down and shifting over to sit on the couch next to Gabrielle.

"What kind of story?" she asked skeptically.

"Another fairytale," he answered. "One about a knight's brave daughter and a terrible beast."

She giggled as he made a face to accompany the description of himself, finally cheering up. "Okay! But it better be good."

"Cross my heart," Rumplestiltskin promised, and Gabrielle smiled, crawling over to sit in his lap. Melting a little inside, he wrapped his arms around his little girl, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. Meanwhile, Belle stole the chair that Rumplestiltskin had vacated, beaming at him the way she always did when he showed his softer side.

Winking at her, Rumplestiltskin was glad that he had a good story in mind, because Netflix was obviously not going to defuse the potential temper tantrum this evening. Perhaps they would have to get another copy of that DVD for the next time Gabrielle was sick.

"Story, Papa!"

"As you wish." Chuckling, Rumplestiltskin began: "Once upon a time, there was a pretty maid living in the Beast's castle. She had volunteered to come and save her people, but she was terribly lonely. Because of that—and because she had always been enormously brave—she decided to explore behind the Locked Door."

"What was back there?" Gabrielle demanded immediately.

"I'll get to that," he reassured her, exchanging a look with Belle. His wife did not look amused at all, but that was because she had been the one who opened the door that day. Actually, Belle looked a little mortified, but as far as Rumplestiltskin was concerned, she shouldn't have been. This memory was one he was most fond of.

"You better," she sneezed.

"Have I ever failed you, sweetie?"

"No."

"Well, then if you want to know what happened, you'd best let me continue," he pointed out. "Now, where was I?"

"The Locked Door!"

"Oh, yes. The Locked Door. Down near the dungeons of the castle, there was a big wooden door that was always locked. Our Beauty had been told repeatedly not to try to open any locked doors, but she has a kind heart and had been in the Beast's castle for months and months. She thought she knew where all the dangers were, so when she heard an animal whining from the other side of the door, she went to find the keys. But first, Beauty knelt by the door and said:

" '_Erm, hello?' _she asked. _'Is anyone there?'_

"But there was no answer. After a moment, she promised:

" '_I'll be right back. I'm going to get you out. It'll be all right.'_ And then she went to get the keys. After several minutes searching, she found them, and then headed back to the Locked Door. Meanwhile, the Beast—"

"That's you!" Gabrielle interrupted. "And Mamma is Beauty."

"Of course we are. But are you going to let me tell the story, or not?"

Her smile had turned sunny, sickness forgotten. "Okay!"

"So, the Beast was away, but his magic warned him that she was walking into danger. You see, the very day before, the Beast had caught his maid when she fell off of a ladder, and had realized that she was special to him. He didn't want to tell her that because he was very shy, but he worried about his maid. Particularly when her bravery made her silly."

"Rumple!" Belle objected, and now her cheeks were bright red. Gabrielle, however, giggled.

"What silly did Mamma do?"

"Well, the Beauty rushed down to the door, saying: _'Stand back. I'm going to get you out.'_ Then she opened the Locked Door, and a terrible roar filled the air!"

Rumplestiltskin let out his own roar, and grinned as his daughter jumped delightedly. He continued:

"There, behind the Locked Door, crouched a terrible Rodent of Unusual Size, or R.O.U.S. Rodents of Unusual Size are native to Florin, on the edge of the Enchanted Forest, and live only in the Fire Swamp. But they are terrifying and vicious creatures, with huge teeth for biting and claws for tearing. They only fear fire, and Beauty had no idea why the Beast had one in his castle. But he did, and now our brave maid faced one all alone, without any way to defend herself.

"She backed away, grabbing her broom to fend the R.O.U.S. off, but soon it had her in a corner and it seemed like all hope was lost."

"And then the Beast rescued her!" Gabrielle put in excitedly, but then her lower lip trembled. "Didn't he?"

"Of course he did. Realizing his maid was in danger, the Beast appeared in a cloud of red smoke, shouting her name. He knew that R.O.U.S move very slowly, and that his maid could outrun the creature if she started right away. Unfortunately, she paused to glare at him.

" '_It's a R.O.U.S.!'_ Beauty explained. _"Who keeps an R.O.U.S. in their _castle_?'_

" '_I do. Come here!' _the Beast retorted.

" '_But Rodents of Unusual Size only bite when threatened,' _she argued. _'I'm trying to help—'_

"And the R.O.U.S. bit her," Rumplestiltskin continued, not telling their daughter about Belle's pained screams or the horrible mess the R.O.U.S. had made of her leg. That was too gory.

"No!"

"Oh, yes. But the Beast rushed to catch her, conjuring up a fireball. Magic doesn't really work on Rodents of Unusual Size, but the Beast set his maid down very carefully and jumped between her and the R.O.U.S., using his fireball to chase it back behind the Locked Door as it snarled. Then he took his maid to her room, laying her down on her bed and healing her hurt leg."

He meant to stop there, but Belle picked up the story, saying softly:

"That was the day that she stopped fearing the Beast. Before then, she _pretended _not to be afraid, but when he saved her and helped her, she realized that he was just lonely and sad. So, she started to look at him differently from that day forward."

"And then you fell in love?" their daughter yawned. Gabrielle was leaning heavily on Rumplestiltskin; the cold she had was magic-resistant and sapped her energy away.

Belle chuckled. "Eventually, yes. It was never easy."

"Good."

Moments later, Gabrielle drifted off. Rumplestiltskin didn't dare move lest he wake her, but he managed to shift into a more comfortable position. Glancing at Belle—_his_ Beauty—he admitted:

"I think I fell in love with you that day."

"I almost kissed you after you healed me," she replied, moving to sit next to him on the couch and do just that. Her lips were warm against his, and as always, Belle tasted like coming home, with just a touch of the purest magic behind her kiss.

"Did you?" he asked.

"I realized that my feelings for you weren't something to be afraid of," Belle answered. "I just didn't know that you felt the same."

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Well. I hope you know now."

Wrapping an arm around his neck, Belle kissed the soft place behind his ear. "Tell you what. Let's put our little monster to bed, and then I'll show you how much I know."

"You have yourself a deal."

* * *

**_A/N: Next up, "Frilly Pink Apron", in which Belle burns down a kitchen and Rumplestiltskin cooks._**


	2. Frilly Pink Apron

**Frilly Pink Apron**

* * *

Summary: Rumplestiltskin loves to cook. Belle keeps this a secret, for his sake. But also because it once earned her a bedroom and something to wear other than that golden ball gown. In a roundabout fashion, anyway. Set in the FOTS Universe.

_My Round 1 submission for the Rumbelle Showdown, written as "Purple Crocodile". Prompts were: secret, fire, radio._

* * *

"What _would _the people of Storybrooke say if they could see you now?" Belle asked, creeping up behind her husband as he bent over the stove and coming up on her tiptoes to hook her chin over his left shoulder. "Cooking…what _is _that? It smells wonderful."

Rumplestiltskin twisted to look at her, smirking slightly. "Chicken masala, though this is only the mushrooms."

"Can I help?"

"Probably not the best idea, sweetheart," he replied, giving her a knowing look. "You can hand me the wine, if you want, though. And _not _prance around Storybrooke telling tales of the Dark One cooking. Not if you want to eat, anyway."

Snickering, Belle grabbed the marsala wine off of the opposite counter and brought it over to him. For a man whose home and shop could easily be described as organized chaos, Rumplestiltskin's cooking certainly was precise. Perhaps he looked at cooking as akin to making magical potions. "You know your secret is safe with me. Unless that doesn't taste as good as it smells, of course," she teased him, reaching over to turn on the radio as she walked by it. "Because can you _imagine _the way this would ruin your reputation? The terrible, fearsome Dark One, slaving over the stove while his wife watches and giggles?"

"Oh, just give me the wine," he grumbled, just as the song _We Didn't Start the Fire_ started to play.

Belle stopped cold, almost dropping the bottle. Over at the stove, Rumplestiltskin paused in his meticulous sautéing of the mushrooms to look at her, and they both burst out laughing.

"Well, _I _didn't start it, anyway," Rumplestiltskin said demurely, and Belle smacked him on the shoulder. Hard.

* * *

Belle had been in the Dark Castle for almost two weeks when her scaly and somewhat odd employer looked at her and asked: "You can _cook_, can't you, dearie?"

Startled, she looked up from the floor she was scrubbing on her hands and knees. On her first day, when Rumplestiltskin had defined her duties, he'd said nothing about cooking. Only cleaning, dusting, laundry, and serving his meals. _Oh, and skinning children, which was apparently a quip. _The Dark One was certainly a strange man, but he'd said nothing about cooking when he'd taken her on as his caretaker. _And if he wanted a good maid, he shouldn't have demanded a knight's daughter, _Belle thought to herself, but she managed not to say that to her employer.

"Um, of course I can?" she squeaked, trying not to stare. Even after two weeks, she still found his appearance a little unsettling; those reptilian eyes seemed to dig right into her soul, and much to Belle's surprise, she found she didn't mind. Rumplestiltskin was unnerving but also _fascinating_, and she watched him every chance she got. How _did _he get those eyes?

He didn't seem to hear the question in her voice when she answered his query, however, and he certainly didn't seem to notice the speculative look she was giving him. Rumplestiltskin just twirled a hand airily, and suddenly her rags, bucket, and cleaning supplies vanished. Belle yelped, but her employer just shrugged.

"Good. Then go cook..._something_ or another. I have visitors coming."

Glaring, Belle picked herself up off of the floor and looked down at her formerly beautiful golden dress with a sigh. "It would help if I had something more suitable to wear," she pointed out. "Unless you want dirty rags in your stew."

She could make a stew, couldn't she? That sounded easy.

"What?" Rumplestiltskin had already turned away, and probably was halfway to forgetting about her. Again. What _did _he do with all of his time when he wasn't spinning? "Why would you need…_oh_."

Finally, he seemed to notice her torn and ragged dress. Belle had done her best to wash it in the kitchen a few times, but ornate ball gowns were not meant to be washed. Or cleaned in, for that matter. Still, Belle had been raised a lady, and she was doing her best to look presentable. Not that she was managing so well on that front. The hem of her gown was torn, the laces in the back were tangled and frayed, and the shoulder strap on the left side was hanging on by a thread. She _knew _that she looked like a mess, but apparently she could have pranced about in her petticoats for all Rumplestiltskin would have noticed.

She just gave him a look, daring him to tell her that her dress was just fine.

"Ah…" Her employer gestured vaguely at a set of nearby stairs that Belle could have _sworn _was not so close at hand five minutes earlier. "Up two flights, second door to the right. Mind the biting stairs." Rumplestiltskin tittered. "Wouldn't want your legs bitten off, would you? Then I'd need a new maid."

"Of course not." Belle rolled her eyes, and then crossed her arms when he failed to explain further. "Is there a _reason _I'm going to this room, Rumplestiltskin?"

"Because it's yours?" Was his laugh _nervous_, now? Belle almost thought the befuddled look on his face was adorable. "You'll probably cook better when you're clean. And wearing something less…well, _that._"

That made her blink. "You're giving me a room that isn't a dungeon?"

"Cook when you're clean, dearie," was all he said, vanishing into a cloud of yellow smoke.

Sometimes, Belle swore that he varied the color just to confuse her.

* * *

An hour later, clean and clad in a comfortable blue and white dress (which laced in the front, thank goodness!), Belle surveyed the kitchen with a critical eye. There weren't any cookbooks, but the larder contained a healthy array of vegetables, some chicken, and some liquid she assumed belonged in Rumplestiltskin's potions collection. It was golden in color, but very thin, almost see-through. She had no idea what it was, and chose to ignore it, even though the liquid smelled vaguely like chicken. The smell was probably meant as a trick, anyway.

Dutifully, she chopped vegetables, figuring out which knives to use by trial and error. She thought that the cooks in her father's castle might have peeled the carrots somehow, but she had no idea how they'd managed that, so she just put them in the big pot as they were. She had to guess at what size she should make the chicken pieces, but she was pretty sure that she hadn't missed any bones, and at least she wasn't expected to pluck feathers. That had already been done by someone else, though who she didn't know. In fact, Belle had no idea who had cooked any of the meals she'd eaten since her arrival. The food always just showed up, freshly cooked and piping hot. Though it did always have a strange, almost metallic taste to it. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin had cooked by magic?

Well. If he had, she could do better than that! Satisfied with her very full pot—it was almost overflowing—Belle stuffed a bunch of wood into the stove and fetched a candle to light it with. That took her a few tries, but she managed, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. In doing so, she noticed a book tucked onto the shelf above where she'd found the candles, and Belle hurried over to investigate it. After all, she would have to stay in the kitchen while the stew cooked, so it was best that she find a way to occupy herself. Soon enough, she was absorbed in _The Book of the City of Ladies_, and had completely forgotten about the stew. But it just had to sit and well, _stew_, didn't it?

Unfortunately for Belle, she'd put too much wood in the fire and no broth in the stewpot. So, the pot heated up extremely quickly, then its contents started to burn. But the real problem arrived when Belle ducked out into the kitchen garden to find some better lighting to read by, promising herself that she'd be back in no time. A dozen chapters later, a voice echoed in through the open door between the gardens and the kitchen:

"What…_what _is this?" a voice echoed in through the open door between the gardens and the kitchen. "Belle! _Belle!_"

"What is it?" she asked, rushing inside with her book in hand. Rumplestiltskin actually sounded worried—

Oh. The kitchen was on _fire._

Well. The stove was, anyway, and the stewpot was spewing rather large flames, too.

"Oh, no," she whispered, dropping the book in surprise and feeling her face go bright red. "I'm so sorry. I was—"

"You were _reading?_" her employer demanded, eyeing the book on the floor as if he was shocked to have seen her with it.

"Um. Yes?"

"Whatever would you do that for?"

Belle glared. "I like to read!"

"You like to light my _castle _on fire, more like!" the Dark One snarled, back, waving his hands—and with a puff of smoke, the fire vanished, leaving behind a charred stove and slightly melted stewpot.

"Well, you shouldn't have demanded a _lady _if you wanted a cook!" she shot back, and Rumplestiltskin looked at her like she was insane.

* * *

Three months later, as Belle lay sick as a dog in bed with a cold that was strangely resistant to magical cures, her employer crept nervously into her (rather grand) bedroom and extended a bowl of stew to her.

"What's this?" she asked between sneezes.

"Stew."

"Obviously." Rolling her eyes made her head hurt.

"Magically made food doesn't go well with being sick," Rumplestiltskin said, but the words came out so quickly that it sounded more like _magmadefoodoesn'tgowellwuthsick._ Belle had accepted the bowl—which smelled delicious—automatically, and by the time she finished figuring out what he'd said, Rumplestiltskin had already fled towards the door.

"Did _you _cook this?" she asked, but he vanished instead of answering.

* * *

"You left that book there on purpose, didn't you?" Belle asked her husband, watching him carefully place the chicken back in the skillet.

"Of course I did. I wanted to know about you," he answered with a shrug.

"You could have just asked."

Rumplestiltskin gave her a look that said she was silly to even contemplate that.

"Or I could tell all of Storybrooke what a marvelous cook you are," she threatened with a grin. Rumplestiltskin glared.

"I'd rather wear a frilly golden apron," he groused.

Belle just grinned. "Make it a frilly _pink _apron, and you've got yourself a deal."

* * *

**_A/N: Next up: "Tears", in which Belle and Rumplestiltskin find trouble, and Belle has to save him._**


	3. Tears

**Tears**

* * *

Summary:Rumplestiltskin takes Belle on a trip away from the Dark Castle, and of course they run into trouble. Set shortly before Rumplestiltskin lets Belle go in 'Skin Deep'.

My Round 3 submission for the Rumbelle Showdown, written as "Purple Crocodile".

Prompts: _Hurt, Garden of Earthly Delights, Literature_

* * *

They called it the Garden of Earthly Delights, but Belle would always remember it as the place where she almost lost Rumplestiltskin. She'd _read _about it, of course—there were four books in the library Rumple had given her, beautifully detailed works of literature chock full of colorful etchings which made the place seem like heaven itself—but nothing could have prepared her for what actually happened. Nothing at all.

"You can save him," the gnome told her, his beard formed of icicles and big feet right on the edge of the portal that had brutally sucked Rumplestiltskin's power away until the gnome stopped it, leaving her employer just a husk of himself, shaking and whimpering helplessly.

"Me?" Belle squeaked, kneeling next to Rumplestiltskin and not noticing the way the cold ground seeped through her skirt. "How? I don't have dark magic. I don't have magic at all, and—"

"Love itself is powerful magic," the Barbegazi gnome—for that was what he was, this Guardian of the Garden—said solemnly. "And you love this Dark One as no Dark One has ever been loved before."

_Love. _She had never dared form the word in her mind, not even subconsciously. Belle refused to be one of those desperate women who pined for something they could not have, yet she _wanted_ to love Rumplestiltskin. She had been in his castle for months now, growing closer to him, and she had long since admitted to herself that he was a good friend. Deep in her heart, however, she knew that she wanted more than that. She had for some time. _Love._ The Barbegazi believed that she loved Rumplestiltskin. Was that why her heart raced so painfully?

"I can save him, then?" she whispered, not daring to repeat the word. Saying it aloud would make it real, and Belle was not sure if Rumplestiltskin was even capable of loving her in return.

"What will you give to save him?" was the quiet response.

Belle answered without thinking: "Anything."

The gnome blinked.

It had started an hour earlier. Belle had been a little surprised when Rumplestiltskin invited her along on this trip. He'd said something about needing to conduct a deal, and then casually mentioned that she might visit the Garden of Earthly Delights. And, _of course_ Belle had just been reading a book about said garden (from the library he'd given her, a thought that still made a delightful chill run up her spine) which he suddenly seemed to 'notice'. His little act didn't fool her for a moment, but Belle was happy enough to play along with his charade. Any opportunity to leave the castle was a welcome one. There were so few of those, and Belle treasured every one.

So, she'd happily tagged along with Rumplestiltskin, smiling when he dropped her off at the gates to the Garden and burying herself in the beauty and the amazing history of the place. Everywhere she looked, something else caught her eye: fountains, flowers, climbing vines and beautifully sculpted garden gnomes. After wandering for a long while, Belle found herself in front of a beautiful swirling mirror of something that _looked _like liquid glass. That was where Rumplestiltskin joined her, and that was where everything went wrong. No sooner had he stopped next to her than the magic of the mirror—or the portal, as Belle later found out it was—started sucking the darkness straight out of Rumplestiltskin, making him collapse and convulse, clearly in too much pain to even scream. The color tore out of his features almost immediately, his skin going paper-thin and losing its luster. He shook and jerked, and Belle could see the power draining out of him…and with it, his life.

"Anything?" the Barbegazi now asked, staring at her curiously.

"What must I do?" Belle demanded, moving to cradle Rumplestiltskin in her arms. She felt so cold, so _terrified_ of losing him. Was this what love felt like? She felt like her heart was being torn into pieces, like her world was going to end. _Love_? Rumplestiltskin had become her friend, but could there be more?

She couldn't lose him. She _couldn't._

"Tell me what I have to give," she continued when the gnome said nothing.

What would he demand? Her life? Her soul, if such a thing could be given? What would it take to save Rumplestiltskin? Belle could not contemplate _not _paying such a price, whatever it was.

"The tears of a lover are some of the most powerful magic," the Barbegazi finally answered.

"But we're not—"

"No. But you will be."

That made Belle's heart leap. The sudden flare of hope was irrational, particularly if Rumplestiltskin was dying, but did that mean they had a future? That he might feel for her something like she felt for him? That was impossible. Wasn't it?

"Tell me what to do!"

"You already are," said the Guardian, gesturing at her face. And there _were _tears streaming down her cheeks, rolling freely along Belle's face and dripping onto Rumplestiltskin. Even as she looked down, two of them landed on his left cheek, sizzling slightly when they hit. He twitched, seemingly in pain, but his convulsions slowed a little. Belle stared at him helplessly, her chest tight and breathing hard. But it wasn't doing enough. Rumplestiltskin was still whimpering softly, the sounds almost too quiet for her to hear.

"Surely there must be more I can…" Looking up, Belle trailed off. The Guardian was gone, and even though she looked left, right, and everywhere she could think of, she could not see him. "Come back!"

No one answered her cry, so she just looked down at Rumplestiltskin again, her tears beginning to come harder.

"Don't leave me," Belle whispered. "I know I came with you for a deal, but it's more than that, now, isn't it? If I was just a deal, you would have let that horrible sheriff have me, and you'd never have given me a library. And…and I don't want to be just your servant." Her voice hitched painfully. "I know you can't hear me, but I don't want to lose you. Please, Rumple."

Nothing happened, and Belle tried to swallow back the urge to sob. She failed.

"I can't lose you," she cried. "Not now. Not when I—"

Belle couldn't bring herself to finish. However, hot tears continued rolling down her face, continued dripping onto Rumplestiltskin. Her vision might have been too blurred for her to notice the difference, but his color was slowly beginning to return as the magic did its work. The Barbegazi might never have spoken the words _True Love_, but then, he hadn't had to. The portal was constructed to protect the Garden from evils like the Dark One, but there was a catch: someone so loved could not be evil enough to be a threat. So, slowly, Belle's tears brought Rumplestiltskin back, darkness and all.

{**************}

Rumplestiltskin blinked his way into consciousness, surprised to find a face just inches from his own. "Belle…?" he croaked, and her beautiful features creased into a huge smile.

"You're awake!"

"You…" He felt fine. Well, not fine, but whole again, which was a big improvement off of how he'd felt while that magic-sucking portal drained the dark magic out of him, ripping his body and soul into shreds. Somehow, he knew that she'd saved him. Something had happened while he drifted and whimpered, but he couldn't quite remember what. "You saved me," the Dark One whispered to his maid. "What did you do?"

"Cried," she replied with a helpless shrug.

That made him blink. "Cried?"

"I didn't _do _anything," Belle replied, sounding confused. "I just cried."

She couldn't know that tears held amazing power, so long as the one weeping cared for the person they were weeping for. _She _cares _about me?_ The thought came unbidden. Rumplestiltskin had saved her from wolves and she had patched him up with surprising care, but for her tears to heal him, to heal _the Dark One_, she had to feel deeply for him. He had known for some time that his feelings for Belle were no longer so safe or platonic, but he was a monster. She could never love him the way he had come to love her.

Yet Belle _cared_. That much was obvious. Even if she just thought of him as a friend (a friend who earned wonderful hugs from time to time, who was worth laughing with and teasing and, oh he was _so _far gone), that was more affection than he had felt in centuries. For her tears to heal him, Belle had to genuinely feel something for the terrible monster who had acquired her in a deal.

No more. He couldn't do this anymore. He had to let her go.

_Tomorrow, _Rumplestiltskin promised himself. _I'll send her to get straw and never see her again. It might break my heart, but if you love someone…you have to let them go._


	4. Almost Home

**Almost Home**

* * *

My Round 4 submission for the 2015 Rumbelle Showdown, written as Purple Crocodile.

Prompts: _Thief, Traditions, Water_

_A/N: In this AU, Belle is not captured by Regina after freeing Philip. She heads back to the Dark Castle…but runs into an obstacle along the way._

* * *

"You stole my _shadow!_"

"Heh heh heh. So I did. And you'd best be willing to work to get it back, hmmm?" The tall, dark-skinned man twirled his mustache, leaning on a cane and leering at her. Belle glared.

"No, you're going to give it back," she snapped. "_Now._"

The trickster-thief laughed in her face. "You'll die without it in three days' time, missy. So, what'll it be? Work, or die?"

Belle felt cold. She had no idea what the skinny, overdressed, voodoo man had done with her shadow, and she _had _read that you couldn't live long without it. Biting her lip, she asked: "What do you want me to do?"

"Maldonia's Water Carnival begins tomorrow night. While everyone is distracted, you will steal Pandora's Box."

* * *

Sometimes, being a seer a damned nuisance. His visions, although usually accurate (once he sorted through the mess of what could be and what wouldn't be), were vague, spotty, and difficult to follow. They were, however, the reason why he found himself in the small kingdom of Maldonia for their traditional Water Carnival. As a rule, the Dark One avoided rancorous parties, particularly those where _every _resident of a large city wore elaborate costumes and danced the night away by the river. Drunk and wild carnivals were not his style, but unfortunately, tonight was the night that King Ralphie was holding an auction for Pandora's Box.

He _needed _the box. Rumplestiltskin didn't know why, but he did know that someday, somehow, he would need a place to trap someone. So, here he was, clad in a costume and a mask like everyone else. He'd chosen to disguise himself as Robin Hood, giggling all the while until he remembered that Belle had talked him out of killing the outlaw, and mirth was replaced by sudden pain. _If you love someone, you let them go_, he told himself for the hundredth—_thousandth!_—time. Sending Belle away was the right thing to do. Besides, she was gone, gone for good and probably home with her family and happy by now. He had to focus on getting Pandora's Box, not on the maid who he had thrown out .

He was _not _pining. His mask just itched.

The other bidders were attired almost as fabulously as he; there was an overdressed purple "cleric" in the corner, some Evil Queen he was sure was actually a man, an elephant, two overly tall fairies, and a bevy of jesters. Why King Ralphie wanted to hold the bidding outsides, however, Rumplestiltskin had no idea; the dancing and singing crowds from the Water Carnival were pressing in on the small-but-elite group of bidders. The auctioneer was having a hard time making himself heard, and really, who hired an _auctioneer _to take bids on one of the most powerful magical objects in creation? Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, then caught sight of a beautifully engraved book sitting to the right of where Pandora's Box was on display. Curious—and _not _thinking of his former maid—Rumplestiltskin danced through the crowd to take a look.

The cover was jewel-encrusted and gorgeous, clearly crafted by a master. _The Works of Hephaestus, _Rumplestiltskin read once he was close enough, admiring the gold-edged pages and the sheer artistry of the piece. _I should bring this home to Belle—_

Pain made his throat close off. Belle was not waiting for him at the Dark Castle. Belle was gone, and he needed to stop thinking of her. She had walked out of his life, he had driven her out, because he was not worthy of loving her. _Beautiful maidens do not fall for monsters, _he had always known. _Even the kind and brilliant ones come to their senses._

Desperate to distract himself, he tore his gaze away from the book and started looking around for something to think on other than Belle. Immediately, movement caught his eye. There was a small, slender figure dressed in leather and a scaly coat creeping through the crowd. Their face and hair were hidden behind a mask, but their purpose was clear: this thief was aiming right for Pandora's Box. The auctioneer had yet to get things moving; right now, he was arguing with the two 'fairies'. No one else was watching this leather-clad thief, no one but Rumplestiltskin.

He was so close that he didn't even have to teleport. One long stride brought him to the pedestal Pandora's Box rested on just in time to grab the thief by a surprisingly dainty wrist.

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you. You never know what you might release upon the world," he said, keeping his voice lower than usual—in keeping with his disguise, of course. But at least this was fun! Of course, the rumors of what Pandora's Box held were just that: rumors. The box was currently empty, though most of the bidders didn't know that. Rumplestiltskin was probably the only one who was interested in the box for what it _could _hold.

"Let me go!" The thief tried to jerk away, but Rumplestiltskin had always been stronger than he looked. Right up until _she_—and he was suddenly realized her voice was _familiar_ voice—kicked him squarely in the right ankle. Hard.

Yelping, Rumplestiltskin let go, and the thief sprinted away, Pandora's Box in hand and heading towards the water.

But she had taken too long, and the auctioneer grabbed for her, missing. The two fairies also tried, but it was the pack of jesters that managed to surround her. But by then Rumplestiltskin's intellect had caught up with his emotions, and he teleported in between her and the jesters, appearing in a swirl of golden smoke and grabbing the thief before they could. She struggled, but now he had her measure, and avoided being kicked again.

"Belle?" he gasped, not daring to hope.

That made her freeze. "…Rumple?"

Tradition be damned; he tore his mask off, and so did she. For the first time in two months, Rumplestiltskin found himself face to face with the woman who had almost broken his curse. Foolish man that he was, he wanted to kiss her, but he _couldn't_. Still, their faces were so close that he could feel her breathing. Rumplestiltskin had never wanted something so badly in his life as he wanted her now.

"Hang the thief!" one of the jesters shouted, ruining the moment.

"What?" Rumplestiltskin twisted to face them as Belle yelped. Oh, yes. She still had Pandora's Box in her hands. Oops. _No!_

"That is in accordance with our laws," the auctioneer said, slipping through the crowd to speak. Several others were glaring at Rumplestiltskin as fiercely as they were Belle; the two were scandalously unmasked, which Maldonia probably viewed as heinous a crime as stealing. "She must die."

"She's no thief, dearie," Rumplestiltskin threw in dismissively. "She's my…associate. Merely checking your security." He tossed the box back. "Shall we get on with the bidding?"

None of them believed him, but now that his mask was off, who was going to argue with the Dark One? For that matter, none of them really wanted to bid against him, which meant Rumplestiltskin—_and Belle!_—walked off with Pandora's Box for a song.

He bought the book, too, of course.

"Why _were _you trying to steal this?" he asked, gesturing with the box as they headed away from the Carnival.

Belle looked down. "Doctor Facilier stole my shadow. He said I have to give it to him, or I'll die without it."

Rage rose before Rumplestiltskin could summon the proper frame of mind to take a look at her with magic. Then rage rose further as he realized that Facilier had _lied _to Belle. Still, a twitch of his fingers could remedy that, and he stopped.

"Look," he gestured, and Belle stared wide-eyed at her shadow, safely on the ground.

"You got it back!"

When she threw her arms around him like that, Rumplestiltskin was tempted to let her believe it. But… "Ah, no," he stammered, trying to ignore how marvelous her body felt pressed against his. "Facilier's stock in trade has always been illusion. It was never gone."

"That…that…_ooh!_" Belle snarled, and Rumplestiltskin took advantage of the moment to hold her tight. But her next words floored him.

"I was coming back, you know," she said softly.

"…_What?_"

Her smile was radiant. "I love you, Rumplestiltskin. And I know you love me."

"I…I…er…"

"I'm coming home," Belle told him bluntly.

"You…youwanttobewithme?"

"Of course I do. Even if you are dressed like Robin Hood."

She'd noticed! "What _are _you dressed as?" he demanded, desperate to change the subject even as his heart sang. Belle wanted to come home!

Belle grinned cheekily. "The Dark One, of course. But I think the leather pants look better on you."

The last words made her blush, but somehow Rumplestiltskin found enough boldness in himself to cast an approving look over how very _nicely _those leather pants fit her. "Not from where I'm standing."


End file.
